The Fourth Stall (19 page)

Vince sighed. “I’m sorry, too. This whole thing wasn’t all your fault. I mean, I
stole
money from you. That’s about as honest as telling a chimp that having thumbs on your feet makes up for having to wear a diaper.”

I let out a laugh in spite of the mood. “Your grandma?”

“No,” Vince said, shaking his head slowly. “My mom.”

“Oh,” I said, and stopped smiling. I remembered then that he had said she’d been acting crazy since losing her job. I guess I kind of knew how she felt because I’d kind of lost my job recently, too.

“So what I’m saying is I forgive you if you forgive me for stealing money and lying to you,” Vince said.

“Well, before you go getting all sappy on me, I need to know one thing,” I said. “What was the deal with taking money from Staples?”

Vince actually chuckled. “That’s the thing, Mac. I had no idea that Barry Larsen was Staples. It still just blows me away. I grew up with that kid. He used to live just seven trailers down from me!”

“I know, it shocked me when I found out, too,” I said. “I remember playing football with him once or twice.”

“Deep down I think I kind of knew something was up when he stopped by that morning because I hadn’t talked to Barry in a while, but I was so desperate for money, I think I just switched off my common sense there for a second.”

“But why did he give it to you? Why did you miss school that day?”

“Barry’s been trying to get me to sell my bike to him for years,” Vince said. “This time he offered me three hundred and fifty bucks for it and I just couldn’t resist. I mean, that pays our electric bill for like three months. He paid me half and then said that he’d be by later that day sometime before three to pick it up and pay the other half. So I faked sick and stayed home. I know that whole scenario is so suspicious and I should have known better, but being in this kind of mess does things to you. I especially should have known better when he never came by to get it. I mean, what kid just forgets to collect the merchandise at that price? I can’t believe I was that stupid.”

Vince must have been really strapped for cash to be willing to sell his bike. It was his dad’s bike when he was a kid, a true vintage. For him to sell it for under a grand, or even sell it at all for any price, meant that things really were pretty bad for his family. It was basically the last part of his dad that Vince had left.

“Okay, deal. I forgive you if you forgive me,” I said.

“Cue the music,” Vince said as he started wiping at his eyes dramatically.

I laughed. “Whatever.”

“I still can’t believe you questioned my Cubs fandom. Especially after I’m about to finally beat you,” Vince said.

“Bring it on,” I said.

“What Hall-of-Fame Cub had the nickname Three Finger?”

That was a tough one. I tried to clear my head, which was difficult considering I still had to deal with the Staples issue. Though, really, now that I had Vince back on my side, I felt like we could take down anybody. I felt like if we were playing on the Cubs together as pitcher and catcher right then, we’d break a hundred-year-plus curse that even guys like Greg Maddux and Mark Grace and Aramis Ramirez and Carlos Zambrano and Ernie Banks hadn’t been able to break.

“Mordecai Brown,” I finally said.

Vince shook his head in defeat. “Well, then.”

I grinned at him. “All right, Vince. We still have to deal with Staples somehow. A lot has happened since I last talked to you.”

I proceeded to fill him in on the weekend’s events. We called over Joe and the bullies and filled them in as well. And then it was time to plan. We stayed up well past dark Sunday formulating the master plan for Monday.

So that’s everything that had happened since Saturday, and everything that had led me up to this point. What happened next would all depend upon how Staples reacted to my offer. He was either going to accept and we’d all go home, or he would decline and the cops would be called in. Then again, there was always option three: He’d ignore my offer and simply beat me to a bloody pulp.

Chapter 25

S
taples stood next to the sink near the fourth stall from the high window and glared at me. I took the silence as a chance to ask something that had been bothering me ever since I’d found out that Fred was the snitch.

“I guess there’s still one thing I don’t get, though, and that’s why. Why would you send in Fred to reveal yourself when you could have just kept operating right under my nose?” I asked.

“You can’t figure it out for yourself?” Staples sneered. “I thought you were a genius or something. Well, I’ll spell it out, then. Rumor had it that you ran a pretty tight business, that you solved
everybody’s
problems. And, well, I knew that eventually all the little wusses around here would go and whine and cry to you about how they had lost all their money, and ‘Staples is threatening me,’ and blah, blah, blah, and you’d stick your big nose into my business. So I struck first. I knew that if I could take out your lame little business that I’d be home free to do whatever I wanted in this school.

“So I sent Fred in. And I knew that if I gave him a story where he’d need constant protection, you’d keep him close. Close enough to get all the information I’d need to wipe you out. Because that’s one thing my deadbeat father actually taught me. He taught me: keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And sure enough, it didn’t take long for me to know everything. The money was just a bonus. Once Fred told me about your Emergency Fund, it became all about getting that first. Once Fred told me about your argument with your friend, I saw my chance both to get the money and finish you off in one move. I could have wiped you out in just a few days had I really wanted to.”

I saw Fred looking at the floor, appearing more sheepish than ever. Staples laughed. He sounded like a maniac.

“I tried to warn you to just back off, too. I sent you so many warnings. At first I was only trying to make sure that you stayed out of my way, but no, you kept on pushing. You didn’t mind your own business and then you forced me to take you out. You’re such a stubborn little pest, trying to play gangster like it’s some game.”

I thought about what he said. It didn’t really add up. He had been trying to take me out from the beginning. He had just told me so. He only delayed and sent warnings to keep me off his back long enough to give Fred a chance to steal my money. No, he was trying to turn the tables and make me doubt myself.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Christian; you kept bringing it on yourself.”

“No. This was your fault,
Barry
, not mine. I’m not the one with a dirty business. I make my money by providing a service, not by cheating kids. Plus, you
did
want to hurt me. How else can you explain sending Willis and that other kid after me, or trying to kill me with your car? You’re jealous, aren’t you? That’s why you’ve had it out for me from the beginning. You’re jealous that I have a business that works without cheating, that some little kid can run a smoother, more profitable business than you. And you’re jealous that I have a dad who’s not some drunken deadbeat slob.”

Staples shook his head. He seemed at a loss for words. Finally he said, “No, Christian, you’re wrong!” His teeth were pressed together and spit flew from his mouth when he talked.

That’s when my phone rang. All three of us looked at it as it sat in my hand.

“Excuse me,” I said, and flipped the phone open.

“Hey, Mac! We got it, all of it. It worked perfectly,” Vince’s voice said. He sounded as excited as I’d ever heard him.

“Good,” I said, and smiled at Staples. He did not smile back.

“We got almost all of our money back. It was in a lockbox under the floorboards, right where Tyrell knew to look. And we got documents and business records and all kinds of incriminating stuff, too. How are things there?” Vince said.

“Good. Hang on a minute, Vince,” I said.

“What? What?” Staples said. He sounded menacing, but he looked worried.

“They got it,” I said. “They got it all. They even found my money under the floorboards.”

That’s when Staples moved like lightning. He stepped forward and smacked the phone right out of my hand. It smashed into the concrete wall and clattered onto the floor in several pieces. I backed up, but I had nowhere to go.

“What are you doing? They’ll call the cops!” I said.

But I wasn’t sure if they actually would. We never actually thought it would come to that.

“You really think the cops will care about some kid taking bets?” Staples said.

“They will when the perp has a list of priors as long as California. I know you’re on probation, so one little incident and you’re going to prison. You’ll have to write me, Barry, and let me know what the slammer is like. I’ve always been curious about that.”

Staples’s eyes turned pure red. His hands made fists, and I heard his teeth grind together. He punched a nearby stall door and it dented with a bang. I flinched. Then he punched the mirror and it splintered and a few shards shattered on the tile floor. I looked at his fist as he turned to face me; it wasn’t pretty.

“Well, it doesn’t look like I have a choice, then, does it?” Staples said with such intense vehemence that it almost made me want to die in fear right there on the spot.

“Your choice is to leave my school forever or go to prison,” I said quietly.

“No, no. I don’t have a choice. You’re a sneaky little liar and you’re going to turn me in no matter what I say, aren’t you?” he said, taking a few more steps toward me.

I backed up more and realized that I was now cornered. I was back by the high window with nowhere to go.

“No! I wouldn’t do that. I keep my word. A deal is a deal.”

“Right. Just like you lied to me to get me here, right?” he said.

“No, that was just . . . I mean . . . I swear I’ll give you your stuff back, all I want is
my
money that
you
stole,” I said, trying to take the offensive.

He laughed and moved within a few feet of me.

“Well, here’s the thing: your little friends can do whatever they want with the stuff they stole from my shed. Let them call the cops. All you need to worry about is the fact that
you
will pay for it.” He was speaking so harshly that his spit sprinkled my face. “I’m already going to prison, right? So who cares if they add more time for what I’m about to do to you?”

I knew he was done bargaining. Staples had gone off the deep end. I kicked out my foot at his shin, but he was too fast. He stepped away from my kick and I lost my balance. Then he moved with mongooselike speed and grabbed my wrist. His bony fingers dug into my arm.

I yelped in pain and tried to get away, but his grip was like a bear trap.

“Fred, help me!” I yelled.

He just cowered even more in his chair. His feet were up on the seat and his arms were wrapped around his legs. He had basically curled into a little ball like an armadillo under duress.

At that point I realized that I had no choice but to fight dirty. I grabbed the hand that was holding my wrist and pulled my face to it. He tried to push my head away with his other hand, but it was too late. I didn’t really want to do it, but I closed my eyes and bit. Staples yelled in pain and let go of me.

Then I ran.

I ran out the door of the bathroom and then quickly out the East Wing entrance to the upper-grade playground. I stopped and looked back to see if he was following me. He was only like ten feet behind me and closing the distance quickly. I panicked and ran down the hill leading to the football field.

I could hear Staples right behind me, growling like a rabid dog. When I got to the bottom, I crouched and grabbed a handful of gravel. I spun around while backpedaling and threw it into his face. He yelled and turned away from me.

I kicked into high gear and headed toward the street. I knew it would not take long for him to catch me on foot, but if I could just get somewhere more visible to passing cars . . .

I didn’t even get close. His legs were longer and stronger. I had gotten only thirty yards down the football field when I felt someone shove me hard in the back, and I went sprawling onto the ground, my elbow scraping over the dry fall grass. It burned and the wind got knocked right out of me. I felt my elbow moisten with blood as I tried to catch my breath.

But then he was on me. He grabbed my shirt and lifted me off the ground easily. I could have kicked him or something, but I was too busy trying to get some air into my lungs. I wheezed as he carried me by my shirt collar back toward the parking lot.

As I finally caught my breath, Staples set me on my feet. His hand moved from my shirt to the back of my neck, where it clamped down so hard I thought my head was going to fall off.

“Don’t try to run again or you’re dead,” he whispered in my ear. He guided me toward his red sports car. “Now get in.”

He opened the passenger door to the red sports car and I did as I was told, fear swelling inside of me like a teacup being filled with a garden hose. I’d never been more scared in my whole life. I was too scared to even try to think of a way out of this.

He got in the car and started driving. I had no idea where he was headed, but it was out near the edge of town. He headed past the Walmart and just kept going. I looked out the window as a farm field passed by. I kept imagining Staples making me dig my own grave out in some farmer’s deserted cow pasture. Imagining your own death has a way of making you feel pretty sick.